


Falling Under

by CharryWotter



Series: as free as his hair [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: (it's Ben), Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Grief/Mourning, Hurt Klaus Hargreeves, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Klaus' hair reflects his emotions, Klaus' life is just really tragic ig, M/M, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, klaus is not okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 10:55:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24848644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharryWotter/pseuds/CharryWotter
Summary: Klaus blinked rapidly, and Diego noticed unshed tears in his eyes, matching the panic of his tone. “Cut my hair, Diego! Cut it all off!”By the time he is an adult, Klaus' hair is short, tousled and straight, but it hadn't always been that way. All throughout his life, including being a young, carefree toddler with thick, messy curls, to a rebellious teen with hair flowing down to his back, the varied stylings of Klaus' hair represented his fluctuating emotions and inner turmoil.When does Klaus finally turn his back on curly hair and self care? And can falling in love fix a lifestyle ruled by grief and trauma?
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Dave/Klaus Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves & Reginald Hargreeves
Series: as free as his hair [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1797625
Comments: 8
Kudos: 143





	1. Stop Chasing

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired both by Robert Sheehan's gorgeous curly hair that was straightened for the show, as well as by the drastically different and amazing hairstyles Klaus will have in Season 2.
> 
> This chapter does contain sensitive information, so make sure to look at the tags.

If there was one thing that didn’t make sense about Klaus (besides his emotional outbursts, drug use, and habit of talking to thin air), it was his fashion sense.

Ever since he had run away from the Academy and its awful, gendered uniforms, Klaus had made it a point to dress in flashy, fashionable outfits which attracted attention and allowed him to make memorable first impressions. Even while homeless, a time in his life when buying drugs was prioritized over even basics like food, Klaus took special care to acquire a myriad of colorful garments which he carefully cleaned after each use, and every day, even at his most stoned or hungover, he chose his outfit with care.

For people who chose to comment and converse with Klaus about his fashion, it was plain to see that clothing style and presentation was something he treasured, was truly passionate about, and took pride in. 

Now, all of this would make complete sense if not for one thing.

His hair.

Lank and grimy, the tousled strands pointed in every direction and screamed a lack of self care. Not washed, not brushed, not styled in any way, and extending from his scalp as though they would rather be anywhere else.

If Klaus’ clothes were a representation of his glittering personality, his hair could symbolize the drugs and guilt that dampened his sense of self and soured his happiness. With such fabulous outfits and outlandish looks, Klaus was a source of surprise and shock when people noticed the grimy hair that highlighted his status as a homeless junkie.

For this reason, Klaus was an enigma at first glance. Sporadic, manic, and presenting strongly contrasting standards and values.

After noticing his grimy unkempt hair, it may be reasonable for one to assume that the vibrant, unblemished clothes were simply a faltering facade to cover up an apathy for hygiene. In fact, it would really be the logical conclusion for you to draw.

You would be wrong.

…

When he was a toddler, Number Four’s hair was wild and messy, spraying from his head in an untamed jumble of curls rivaling Allison’s. Bouncing around his mischievous face, his hair was a reflection of his personality, as healthy, untamable, and hated by Reginald as Four himself.

Though Four was able to dimly perceive the cold disinterest Reginald held for him and his hair, this was a time before his power had surfaced and before he was shown his father’s true malice, so he still naively expected affection from Reginald and tended to seek him out in a childish attempt to impress him.

“Daddy! Daddy, look!” Number Four yelled excitedly, throwing open the door of Reginald’s study and brandishing something in his small fist.

“What is the meaning of this disruption, Number Four?” Reginald snapped, eyes not leaving the journal and hand not pausing in its writing. 

“I found a spider‒oh no!” At Four’s childish shriek, Reginald did glance up, turning his gaze back down to the page once he could ascertain that the idiotic child had somehow dropped the spider into his hair.

Number Four’s nanny burst into the room as Four burst into sobs, tiny fingers threading through his thick curls. “I’m sorry, sir, he dashed away before I could stop him.”

“That is unacceptable,” Reginald snapped as he wrote. “You have been employed for a single reason.”

The nanny forcibly grabbed Four’s wrist, stilling his frantic hands, and plucked the spider from his head, letting it drop to the floor. “It will not happen again, sir.”

“Indeed it won’t. You will not be given the chance to fail again,” Reginald responded, and the chilliness of his voice left even Number Four shaking.

The nanny dropped Four’s wrist. “Please don’t fire me! I’m sorry, sir!”

“You will not be fired.” Reginald put down his pen and flipped through his journal, stopping on a page filled with his spidery scrawl. “You are to be repurposed. Once I have found a new nanny for Number Four, you will cater to Number Seven.”

“Thank you, sir,” the nanny gasped, unaware that her lifeline had just been cut short. She carefully brushed a few cobwebs from Four’s hair before turning him around and leading him back out.

“And shave Number Four’s head,” Reginald called as the two retreated. “It appears that he does not deserve to retain the filthy tangles on his head. He must learn that actions have consequences.”

The nanny was so relieved at not being fired that she obeyed without any regard for Four, who began to whimper and cry as his gorgeous curls were stolen.

And until the nanny was moved to care for Number Seven and broke her neck falling out of a window, Number Four’s head was kept closely shaved.

…

By the age of twelve, the only aspect of Number Four that resembled his carefree self as a toddler was his hair. 

He had even been given a new name: Klaus, but despite the beautiful ring to the name and its optimistic meaning, there was nothing positive about the broken boy it represented. Gone was the cheerful and curious young boy whose liveliness had gotten himself into all sorts of trouble, and in his place was a thin, haunted specter of a child who alternated between teasing and snarky, and morose and withdrawn.

The ghosts and mausoleum had done what Reginald’s harsh words never could accomplish in ending Klaus’ disobeyal of rules, and the only tools that remained for the traumatized boy were his forever running mouth and the hair on his head, though the latter was involuntary.

Though Klaus’ insolent comments never failed to irritate his siblings and always caused Reginald’s face to harden into a cold fury, it was his hair that really bothered his father. Since it had finally been allowed to grow out again when Grace had been created, the hair had proved as wild and free as ever.

As Klaus shrunk deeper within himself, flinching at things no one else could see and joking about injuries no one wanted to see, his hair seemed to overcompensate, growing at a ridiculous rate and reaching as long as his shoulders until Grace was commanded to “clean the disgusting mess up once again,” in Reginald’s words.

It was about a week or so before his next haircut that Klaus, Ben, and Diego were lounging in Klaus’ room during their designated free time, so when Klaus collapsed dramatically onto the bed, his hair fanned out around his head like a halo of curls.

“‒And I was the one who threw the knives that pinned down the bad guys, so Luther only freed the hostages because of me!” Diego was ranting from his spot sitting on top of Klaus’ desk, referring to the practice mission that the children had just completed. With the discovery of everyone’s powers within the last few years, Reginald had started making the children complete simulated drills in preparation of real missions, and invariably, the golden Number One was the only sibling who was praised at the end. 

Ben looked up from the book he was reading, but didn’t comment. It wasn’t often that the three of them hung out together, since Klaus was usually the one to seek either of the other two out individually, so casually talking with Diego outside of training was uncommon for Ben. The three had only ended up together because Diego had been angry enough to potentially start trouble with Luther following the drill, so Klaus and Ben had convinced him to join them for free time to keep him from seeking Luther out.

“Don’t get me started on the way he could barely break through the ropes on the hostages’ wrists, either,” Diego continued. “My knives would have been so much more efficient‒Klaus, are you even listening?”

Klaus blinked his eyes open, nervously glanced around the room at nothing, and promptly shut his eyes again. “Sure, sure. We all know you hate anything non-knife related.”

Diego bristled. “I was talking about Luther, but you know what? Never mind. It’s not like either of you lower numbers would understand anyway.” He stormed out.

“Touchy, touchy,” Ben said, not looking up from his book. He usually wasn’t so outspoken, but Klaus tended to have that effect on him, drawing him from his shell.

Klaus laughed and ran his fingers through his hair absentmindedly.

Looking up and noticing that his brother’s eyes were still closed, Ben suddenly felt out of place and intrusive. “If you’re going to sleep, I can go,” he said, taking note of the page number and closing his book.

“Well, I’m not going to sleep,” Klaus said petulantly, scrunching up his face but keeping his eyes firmly shut.

Though he was telling the truth, Ben seemed to think Klaus was just being stubborn, so he quietly slipped out of the room to read somewhere else.

“I mean, who would I be to go unconscious and deny myself the company of my most favorite brother?” Klaus added dramatically, not having heard Ben leave under the din of the ghosts. “Don’t you dare leave me just because I won’t look upon you, Ben! Ben?” He cracked his eyes open and was met with only the empty gazes of the dead. A sense of foreboding shot through him.

Ever since discovering he could see ghosts and especially since he had been confined in the mausoleum with them, Klaus couldn’t handle being on his own. Night was the worst time, when they would scream and reach out for him and there was nowhere he could go and no way to escape‒

“Right, maybe a visit to dear Vanya is in order?” Klaus narrated to himself, sitting up on the bed and tucking a stray curl behind his ear.

“Maybe not,” a deep male voice responded, and Klaus flinched, all traces of his mock amusement gone, leaving raw, childish fear on his face. A ghost was standing next to his bed, apart from the screaming masses who were crowded around the edges of the room. He looked old‒in his fifties, maybe‒and a gunshot wound through his forehead made it pretty clear how he’d died.

The ghost seemed relatively sane, so Klaus paused. “What?”

“Don’t leave,” the ghost said, cracking a bemused smile. “We were just getting started.”

Klaus couldn’t tell if the ghost was trying to be creepy, or if talking ominously like that was just a side effect of having died. He usually made it a point to ignore all ghosts, regardless of what they wanted to say, so it wasn’t like he really knew much about them. “Started with what? I’m not talking to any family members or tying up any loose ends for you, if that’s what you want.”

The ghost perched lightly on Klaus’ desk chair where Ben had just been sitting. “No, no, you’re the only one I want anything from. You must understand what I mean, beautiful child like you.”

Klaus’ cheeks reddened, but the frown stayed on his lips. He was pretty sure he didn’t want to understand, but the ghost was standing in front of his door.

“I want to pleasure you,” the ghost said in a husky whisper, and that was enough for Klaus.

Deciding that this ghost was to be feared just as much, or even more, as the insane screamers, Klaus shakily stood and shook his head. “N-no thank you, sir!” he said in an attempt at confidence. “Goodbye and good riddance!” He darted around the ghost to the door, but the ghost swiftly moved.

Suddenly, Klaus was jerked back by a harsh grip on his flowing hair, and flailing, he fell to the ground, landing on his back. His head ached where he had been pulled, and he touched his curls softly, in disbelief. Almost too afraid to look, Klaus raised his gaze to the ghost, who was standing over him, looking self-satisfied.

“Did you just...touch me?” Klaus asked in a whisper. “That’s not possible.”

The ghost took a step forward, and in Klaus’ panic, he didn’t notice that the man was outlined in a pale blue that matched a glow on his hands. “It’s possible, all right,” the man growled. He took hold of Klaus’ hair again in a crushing grip and flung him up and onto the bed. “And now you’re going to stop running and give me what I want.”

Klaus hugged himself with his arms, shaking too hard to try to flee again. “This isn’t real, it’s not happening, this isn’t real…” he whispered to himself.

The man seemed delighted by his fear, reaching out to pet Klaus’ curls with an icy cold hand. “Just look at you, pure and perfect. Smooth skin, luscious chestnut hair‒”

Just then, the door flung open, revealing a panting Diego. “You will NOT believe what Luther just said to me!” he exclaimed, before taking a closer look at Klaus.

The ghost had fled as soon as Diego had entered, but Klaus’ hair was mussed, his face was completely pale, and his entire body was trembling.

“Are you okay?” Diego asked after a pause. He was used to Klaus coming into his room at night, afraid, but never before had his brother looked quite so shaken.

In a single moment, Klaus’ gaze snapped from empty and detached to panicked and urgent, and he launched himself at Diego, grabbing him by the shoulders. “You have knives with you, right? You always do, don’t you?” Klaus asked.

Taken aback, Diego could only nod, all annoyance with Luther completely forgotten.

Klaus blinked rapidly, and Diego noticed unshed tears in his eyes, matching the panic of his tone. “Cut my hair, Diego! Cut it all off!”

Diego smirked, but realizing Klaus wasn’t joking, he furrowed his brow. “You’re serious?”

Klaus let go of his brother’s shoulders and sat heavily on his bed, fingers clenching his hair tightly and heart thumping in his chest. “Yes. Cut it all off. Now!”

For whatever reason, this seemed extremely important to Klaus, so Diego took out a knife and hacked at the hair, and Klaus looked in the mirror at the messy, uneven edges, and smiled a bittersweet smile. 

“Thank you,” was all Klaus said, and they never discussed it again.

…

Over the next few years, Klaus’ aversion to long hair suited Reginald Hargreeves quite well as the children were thrust into the spotlight of fame. Each of the siblings was expected to look their best, and for Klaus, that meant gelling his short hair so that not a single strand curled out of place.

Though the ghost with the bloodied forehead had not returned, ever since the incident, Klaus felt the pressing weight of the gaze of dead people at all times, and the quiet of his room had begun to feel almost as oppressive as the mausoleum. No other ghosts had ever made physical contact with the real world, and Klaus was beginning to suspect that he’d blown the entire event out of proportion. Still, he decided that he wanted nothing to do with the dead, and he wanted to escape in any way he could.

By sixteen, Klaus had started sneaking out at night to wander the streets when staying in his room grew too intolerable. Getting introduced to alcohol and later, drugs, as well as growing accustomed to the atmosphere of clubs reignited Klaus’ desire to be the center of attention, and that meant a fashion change. After all, Klaus thought recklessly, if he was going to be ogled anyway, he might as well go all out.

The drugs made everything pleasantly numb and peaceful in a way nothing in Klaus’ life ever had been like, encouraging wild fashion sense and worse choices.

Men who were in their twenties, men who were in their thirties, men with wives and children waiting at home, Klaus experimented with them all and assuaged his guilt and worry with more drugs and more intimacy. He finally understood what the leering ghost had been planning to do to him, and he did it with the living again and again and again.

He wasn’t being taken advantage of, because it was all his choice, Klaus reasoned to himself when the memories wouldn’t leave his head. Especially as his skirts grew shorter and his shirts optional, Klaus was indeed asking for it, and he told himself that that made it okay.

With the mentality switch, Klaus decided to let his hair grow out again, longer than it had ever been, spilling past his shoulders and down his back. And if the length attracted sexual attention and gave older men something to grab onto, well, maybe Klaus had taught himself to like it rough.

The longer hair even made Klaus sometimes wish the creepy ghost would return, so that Klaus could shock him with the knowledge that the whole experience hadn’t bothered him, that he had actually decided to embrace rough sex and wild hair and the ghost would have just been giving him something he wanted already. 

But the ghost never showed up again, for whatever reason, and it was probably for the better. In the back of his mind, the part which had held onto the shame and fear of the past, Klaus knew that he never wanted to have to look at that pedophile again, regardless of his new exploits and frivolity.

As for his family, Reginald was furious with the change, which was really just an upside, since resenting Klaus had become dear old daddy’s favorite pastime anyway and it was hilarious to get a reaction from him. Especially since the only reason Klaus was allowed to keep his hair was that Grace had surprisingly taken his side, arguing bullshit terms like “self expression” and “adolescent development.” Klaus could tell the other foot was going to drop soon, but until then, he planned to flaunt his hair growth in front of Reginald as much as possible.

The only sibling who loved his drastic shift in style was Allison. Diego, forever in a battle over manliness against Luther, thought it was too “girly”; Ben, who had become much more quiet and withdrawn, thought it was too attention-seeking; Five had been gone for several years by then; and Klaus didn’t bother to ask Luther or Vanya. 

Allison, though, who had become obsessed with makeup, fashion, and celebrities, thought Klaus’ hair was absolutely glamorous. The two grew closer as they hung out for makeover sessions, which soon became the one time in his day that Klaus felt that he might not need drugs to cope and feel content. One night, Allison even convinced him to let her braid his hair, and of course he had to do hers too, and wearing matching makeup and braids to their next mission was worth the extra time in the mausoleum that Reginald commanded as a result.

Reginald never stated outright that Klaus was being punished for his fashion, but as Klaus never really contributed to missions anyway (especially since he was usually high and unable to even see ghosts), appearance was the only thing that could have instigated Reginald’s anger. 

Luckily, the mausoleum had lost its power; as long as Klaus took handfuls of pills beforehand, it was simply cold and uncomfortable, rather than unbearable. 

It was the memories of the mausoleum that were too much, the memories that could send Klaus into a full blown panic regardless of where he was, the memories that attacked him in his sleep and could only be quelled with more drugs. Compared to the memories, actually going to the mausoleum was a joke.

Reginald may have realized that drugs were the reason Klaus had become unbothered and unafraid leaving the mausoleum, but he had finally marked Klaus as completely worthless and must have decided looking into the issue was simply not worth the effort.

In that way, at least, Klaus was able to completely stop worrying about angering Reginald, simply laughing whenever his father stared down his makeup or hairstyle, and he threw himself into the flamboyance fully.

Really, the only person in the household whose disapproval of Klaus’ fashion and long hair might have mattered was Ben, but Klaus was too frantic and giddy from his drugs and rebellion to care.

That was his downfall, in the end.


	2. Time Will Always Catch You Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben dies, but then Klaus falls in love with Dave!  
> ...who also dies

It was a year later, at 17, that Klaus first considered he may have gone too far. Of course, the worry didn’t last very long, since his mind was hazy, his head was pounding, and he vaguely registered that he was curled up half-naked inside a dumpster, so figuring that out took prevalence, but the thought returned with a vengeance when he sat down for dinner back at the mansion the next evening.

By then, the remaining siblings had started to drop off and escape the academy. Vanya had just left for college, Allison for stardom, and Diego for who knew what, so it was just Klaus, Ben, and Luther sitting in silence with Reginald.

As Klaus halfheartedly speared a piece of asparagus onto his fork, his mind drifting due to his high, the thought occurred to him that Ben would be next to leave. Ben was quiet and studious; he’d do well in college if he decided to go, and Klaus figured that based on Ben’s growing unhappiness, it would be sooner rather than later.

Klaus pushed his hair behind his shoulders and leaned forward to stare into his plate. When Ben left, what was he going to do? He barely went on missions as it was, and he’d started staying with strangers overnight more often than not, so maybe it would be possible for Klaus to cut ties to the mansion, too. But as much as he hated the place, the alternative of being completely adrift in the world with no money or home sent shivers down Klaus’ spine. 

Klaus had nothing going for him, and even though it was Reginald’s fault, it was also his own fault, in a way. It wasn’t like Reginald had made him start taking drugs and whoring himself out.

Blinking, Klaus looked up, and found himself up in his room, dinner likely having ended. Losing time like that was happening more and more often, and he couldn’t tell if it was a drugs thing or an insanity thing, but it helped when life grew overwhelming and gave him a sort of reprieve, so he didn’t mind much.

With a groan, Klaus fell face-first onto his bed, realizing too late that he’d probably smudged makeup all over his pillow and not finding it within himself to care. For a moment, he relished the silence of the room, with its absence of ghosts, before he registered the familiar feeling of starting to come down off of his high.

Lethargically, Klaus heaved himself back up, his long hair tousled and matching the bags under his eyes. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a full night’s sleep, but it didn’t matter. It wasn’t like Klaus had ever slept well before the drugs.

Pulling up a loose floorboard, Klaus was pleased to find a baggie of cocaine stashed inside. He could never remember which of his hiding places had been emptied, but it seemed that at least for now, he wouldn’t have to seek out any of his dealers on the streets.

Right as Klaus started snorting a line of cocaine, his door opened, revealing a frowning Ben. “I wanted to ask—” Ben started, but his eyes narrowed as he realized what he had walked into.

Klaus finished the cocaine as casually as possible and attempted to stand up, collapsing into his desk chair as a wave of dizziness crashed over him. “What can I do for you, dearest brother?” Klaus asked, aware that he was slurring his words.

“You’re getting high again.” Ben said flatly. His look of sadness had changed to one of disgust, and for a moment, he almost resembled Reginald.

“And so what if I am?” Klaus whined. “It’s not like I have a problem or anything.” He sniffed.

Ben scoffed and crossed his arms. “You do have a problem, though. And it’s not just the drugs. It’s everything!” He took a shaky breath, and though Klaus was having trouble focusing, he could tell that something was wrong. “You don’t understand what it’s like, Klaus. You’ve always been so carefree, so untouchable, going to parties and taking drugs and flaunting your outrageous styles—you can’t possibly understand what it’s like to be living with an uncontrollable power and a demanding father!”

Klaus furrowed his brow and tried to respond, but no words escaped his lips, so Ben continued.

“Let me tell you, Klaus, since you obviously don’t know and haven’t cared enough to find out. It’s hell. I can’t handle much more. These monsters are always writhing angrily within me and I can’t quiet them, and personal training only made them more violent, while missions made me a murderer...And I’m forced daily to relive the memories of ripping people to shreds for my father’s approval, while you’re off getting high and throwing your life away for no reason! And you refuse to take anything seriously!”

Tears sparked in Klaus’ eyes. He started to slowly spin in his desk chair. “You don’t know anything, Ben,” he spat. “I’m very capable of being serious.” 

“Oh, really?” Ben responded, and Klaus absently noted that this was the most he’d heard Ben talk in the past few weeks, and probably ever. Ben had recently been confining himself to his room and not talking to anyone, so it was surprising that he had decided to speak his mind and release such anger. “Everything is a joke to you. Everything! I mean, look at your hair!”

Klaus ran his fingers through his curls. “What, jealous of my looks?”

Ben took a moment to clutch his stomach before straightening and glaring at Klaus. “You’re just proving me right. We all know that the long hair is just a sad ploy at attracting the attention of the room; to make up for the fact that drugs stole your personality. I miss you, Klaus. I miss when you were lucid and wouldn’t think of sneaking away from the academy, a time before you grew your hair just to prove to Reginald you could. I can’t even imagine what motives you could possibly have! While you were busy going through a teenage rebellion for the fun of it, the rest of us were forced to face harsh expectations and harsher punishments. And I can’t take it anymore!” By this point, Ben was flat out yelling, his face red. “I hate you, Klaus, and I hate your long, selfish hair!”

There was a moment of silence as the two brothers stared at each other, one furious and the other taken aback.

Then the irony of it all hit Klaus, and his high kicked in, and he couldn’t help but laugh, and laugh, and laugh.

Ben stormed out without another word.

And Klaus didn’t know it, but that was the last time he would see his brother alive.  
…

Half an hour later, when the mission alarm blared, Klaus simply rolled over on his bed, burying his head in his pillow. Ben’s parting words had been running through his mind, and he couldn’t tell if he was angry or sad or amused, or all three at once. 

For once, the high wasn’t enough to brush away Klaus’ negative emotions, but it still blocked out the ghosts, making the room blissfully silent for his racing thoughts.

It wasn’t exactly silent anymore, though. The alarm was still blasting, and underneath it, Klaus could hear conversation outside in the hall.

“Where’s Ben? He’s not in his room,” Luther’s annoyed voice boomed.

It was Reginald who responded as Klaus let himself lay there, boneless and facedown on his bed, only half-registering the words. “That is of no consequence to you. It appears that Number Six will simply not be joining you on this mission.”

“What about Klaus?” Luther snapped. Being Number One had certainly made him a demanding prick.

Klaus heard the door of his room open, the exhaustion and drugs making it easy to remain still, and there was a beat of silence before the door was slammed shut.

“Of course he’s gotten high and passed out again. I should have known,” Luther’s retreating voice said. “He wouldn’t be any help anyway. He’s never capable of being serious, not even when it’s life or death.”

The words rang in Klaus’ mind, reinforcing his mixed emotions from the conversation with Ben. Klaus lifted a hand and ran it over his hair, wondering if his siblings were right. He didn’t take anything seriously, but that was because everything in his life had already been way too serious; how could nobody understand?

Maybe Ben was right. Maybe flaunting his hair in front of Reginald was just attention seeking and selfish. Klaus decided to go find Ben and apologize, but before he could, he slipped into an uneasy sleep.

…

An inordinate amount of time later, Klaus startled into wakefulness and stumbled downstairs blearily, hoping to find Ben and wishing that he wouldn’t run into Luther.

Of course, it was just his luck that as he reached the kitchen, Luther was sitting there at the table with Grace.

Klaus immediately paused and made to sneak back out before he was noticed and lectured on missing the mission, but when his eyes adjusted to the scene, he froze.

Luther’s hands and torso were drenched in blood, but it didn’t appear to be his own. That wasn’t so strange (that was how missions went, after all), but the part that Klaus couldn’t comprehend was that Luther’s normally smug face was ashen, and he was motionlessly staring at the wall in shock with clenched fists. Grace’s hand was on his shoulder.

Though Luther never cried, Klaus had the brief thought that walking in on Luther sobbing would have been preferable to having to see whatever empty reaction this was. 

“How could I have known?” Luther’s voice boomed angrily, and Klaus flinched. “There wasn’t anything I could have done to help him, anyway!”

“You seem upset,” Grace remarked, as cheery as ever. “Shall I bake some cookies?”

Surprised that neither of them had realized he was there, Klaus tiptoed out of the kitchen, mind whirling. Normally, he’d be pretty amused at seeing the mighty Number One in such distress, but there was a dark sense of foreboding growing in his heart. 

Ben. He needed to find Ben.

His brother hadn’t been in his room after their fight, and Klaus wondered if he had gone so far as to leave the academy. Probably not for good, but who knew? It wasn’t like there was anything Ben wanted to stay for, especially since he’d made his true feelings about Klaus clear.

If Ben had left, he would have had to take some of his stuff, so Klaus raced up the stairs to check, hair flowing behind him.

He burst into Ben’s room, panting.

A wave of relief burst over him. Ben was standing next to his bed, looking out of the window.

“Ben! I know you’re probably still mad at me, but we can put that behind us, right?” Klaus whined. “No hard feelings?” He patted his hair down so it wouldn’t look quite so wild, and was glad that he’d chosen to wear pants instead of a skirt, which would relay to Ben that he was making an effort to be serious—even though they were hot pink. 

Ben didn’t respond, and Klaus was reminded of Luther’s frustrated desolation in the kitchen. “What’s going on, Ben?” Klaus whispered.

Slowly, Ben turned around, revealing a haunted gaze and hands clutching his stomach, which was ripped open and oozing blood so dark it looked black.

Bile and panic rose up in the back of Klaus’ throat. “You need a doctor! Quick! Let’s get mom!” He rushed forward, but before he could get to Ben, Ben flickered, which stopped Klaus in his tracks as horror and shock shot through him.

“No,” Klaus whispered. “No.”

Ben looked down at his stomach with a blank expression and then looked up at Klaus, nodding. 

Klaus clutched at his shirt so hard he felt the fabric tear slightly under his grip. “No, I can fix this!” he exclaimed as tears sparked in his eyes. “How do I fix this?”

“I lost control, Klaus. There’s nothing you can do,” Ben finally said, voice distant as though he were speaking from far away.

“Not you, Ben,” Klaus choked out. “Not you, not you, please, Ben.”

Ben shook his head slowly, his gaze too broken and his heart not beating, and Klaus couldn’t take it.

He raced from the room back down to the kitchen, bursting in and causing Luther to startle so badly his arm knocked over a chair.

“You did this, didn’t you?” Klaus yelled, voice cracking and tears starting to stream from his eyes. “You were sent to stop Ben’s outburst somewhere! And then you let him die, is that it?” 

The pain in Luther’s eyes was enough of an answer for Klaus, and he lurched from the room as though drunk, reeling.

Klaus thrust open the front doors of the Academy, letting them slam behind him as he ran. It was dusk, so the streets were empty, but a desperate, twisted part of Klaus wished that a car would come and run him over, and end this nightmare.

He finally collapsed in a dirty alleyway, chest heaving and limbs trembling, back scraping against the rough brick. Klaus hugged his knees, eyes darting around, and found that he couldn’t seem to take in a breath. He was gasping, choking, shaking, and there was a ringing in his ears and darkness taking over his vision. As he shuddered uncontrollably, reality mercifully slipped away, and Klaus was met with abrupt unconsciousness.

When Klaus came to, the moon was high in the sky and he was curled in the fetal position on his side. He shakily stretched out his aching limbs and shivered, wishing with futility that everything had just been a bad trip.

It just wasn’t fair that Ben had died. One of the nicest, sweetest people Klaus had known, with a bright future ahead of him despite their troubled upbringing. Especially compared to the disappointment and mess Klaus had turned out to be, Ben was a good person who had deserved the world.

And it had been Klaus’ fault, hadn’t it? His heart stuttered in his chest. It had been Klaus, and his rebellious fashion and carefree attitude that had tipped Ben over the edge. Ben had shouted out his deepest insecurities at Klaus, and what had Klaus done? He’d laughed. He hadn’t even gone after his brother.

Klaus was well aware that everything he touched was destroyed, including his familial relationships and sanity and happiness, but he had never gone so far as to cause anyone to die.

But he had to face the truth: Ben wouldn’t have lost control if it wasn’t for him.

No matter what you do, the ones you love will be the ones who pay.

Abruptly, Klaus lashed out a fist and struck the brick wall beside him, relishing the agonizing sting that briefly overpowered his guilt as the skin on his knuckles tore off.

If Klaus had been more serious, Ben wouldn’t have died.

If Klaus hadn’t grown his hair and thrown his rebellion into Reginald’s face, Ben wouldn’t have died.

Hell, if Klaus had at least cared enough to go on the mission with Luther, he might have been able to talk Ben down and make up for it all by saving him. But once again, Klaus has been too selfish and wrapped up in his own issues to think about anyone else.

And now it was too late.

Ben was dead, and it was Klaus’ fault.

That night, Klaus stayed out until early in the morning, stumbling around the streets seeking companionship, selling sex and buying drugs and booze; getting more drunk and high and out of control than he’d ever been in his life, to the point that the world spun around him and everything went blurry and the moon laughed and the image of his bloodied brother faded from his mind, leaving in its place wild, reckless abandonment.

Klaus didn’t remember making it home, but he must have, since he woke in the late afternoon the next day on the floor of Ben’s room, head pounding in time with his heart and both aching.

The pain behind Klaus’ eyes spiked as though a knife was physically stabbing through his skull, and a strong feeling of nausea overtook his body, so he dragged himself to the bathroom in time to lose the contents of his stomach into the toilet.

Rinsing out his mouth in the sink, Klaus glanced at the mirror, and was startled but not surprised to see that at some point in his haze of drugs and partying, he’d gotten his long hair cut short, ragged and messy.

Though he couldn’t remember when it had happened, Klaus immediately knew why he’d chosen to sacrifice his gorgeous hair, and he swallowed back another urge to vomit. He had truly loved letting his hair grow long and flowing and freer than he could ever hope to be, but that didn’t matter anymore.

After all, Klaus had killed Ben. Murdered his own brother, his favorite brother, his most innocent and caring brother, with his selfishness. He didn’t deserve beautiful hair.

Staring into the mirror, with horror in his crazed eyes and The Horror on his mind and grief choking the breath out of him, Klaus promised to himself that he would never grow or style his hair again, no matter what. If nothing else was serious about Klaus, at least his hair could be a testament that he was trying. He wasn’t worth gleaming curls and flowing locks, anyway. He wasn’t worth living.

It was Klaus’ fault Ben was dead, and he was going to make himself pay.

…

And for over a decade, that was the end of Klaus’ long and curly hair.

Klaus allowed himself to keep his wild clothing styles, and couldn’t help but throw himself further into drugs, alcohol, partying, and sex, but keeping his hair under control was the one way he could honor Ben and punish himself like he deserved—not that the effort was truly understood or appreciated by his brother.

As a ghost, Ben had a lot to say about Klaus’ hair decisions, but since he’d died, Ben had had a lot to say about every bad decision Klaus made, so for the most part, Klaus ignored him.

Of course, Ben never mentioned outright Klaus’ grief or the remorse that he’d realized to be the cause of Klaus’ rejection of styled hair; he didn’t seem to want to broach the topic of his death in any way, something Klaus understood because he felt the same. 

In the end, this meant that the most Ben could really argue was that the style looked ugly and uncared for, which was pretty ineffective nagging, compared to the real reason that spurred Klaus’ resolve. So Klaus stuck to his grief-stricken promise and continued to make sure his hair stayed short, straight, and unkempt, wondering in the back of his mind if one day he could make everything up to Ben for real, somehow, and eventually Ben stopped lecturing about it.

And then Reginald died, which gave Klaus a rush of happiness as strong as his grief over Ben had been, and the family was all back together, including little Number Five. But nothing had changed, and none of them wanted him to even mention Ben, so Klaus let the drugs take control and played his part as the inconsequential junkie even as he was kidnapped and tortured.

When he suddenly found himself sent back in time, without even Ben, Klaus met Dave, and his entire worldview began to shift. As he flirted with death and Dave, and slowly fell in love with his soulmate, for the first time in his life, Klaus let himself wonder if things could really get better.

Still, even with his newfound happiness amidst the war, Ben’s disturbed face and bleeding stomach haunted his mind, so Klaus stuck to his promise. He painstakingly kept his hair short and unkempt even as he grew closer with Dave; even though he’d finally met someone he wanted to be beautiful all over for.

“Doll, is your hair naturally curly?” Dave asked once when they were sitting alone at night, backs against a tree trunk, looking up at the stars. “You always keep it so straight, but I can’t help but notice the way some of the strands are starting to curl in this humidity.” He reached over and tugged gently at a stay lock of hair resting on Klaus’ forehead, laughing as the strands bounced when he let them go.

Klaus gazed into Dave’s eyes, kind and nonjudgmental and filled with simple, sweet curiosity, and was flooded with a sudden, overwhelming sadness. “Why?” was all Klaus was able to get out.

Dave laughed. “Just wondering what you’d look like if you let all of your hair get curly like that. I think it would be cute.” He winked, tucking the curl behind Klaus’ ear.

Klaus felt a breeze wash over them, and shivered slightly despite himself. To an outsider, answering the question would seem so simple and inconsequential, but Klaus could feel the familiar stirrings of the guilt and regret that had never faded over the years, and he couldn’t bear to unload the whole story onto Dave.

“It used to be curly,” Klaus whispered, speaking each word delicately as though they could shatter in his mouth. “Imagine tight ringlets, healthy and eye-catching. And long—it reached halfway down my back at one point, what do you think of that?”

Dave’s breath caught in his throat before he broke out into a smile, and a wave of affection rushed through Klaus. Dave slung his arm around Klaus and pulled him close. “Sounds beautiful, just like you,” he whispered back, gazing at Klaus in the moonlight. “What made you change it?”

Klaus’ answer caught in his throat, so he caressed Dave’s cheek, emotions whirling. “Shut up and kiss me,” Klaus said in lieu of an answer, and he leaned in.

Dave didn’t need to know how irreparably broken he was.

…

A few nights later, Klaus and Dave were cuddling on one of the cots when Klaus finally plucked up the nerve to share his darkest secret. 

He’d already confessed about the ghosts and time travel, and he made enough references to Reginald that Dave could probably guess what his childhood had been like, but Klaus didn’t think he could handle seeing any pity, or worse, rejection, in Dave’s eyes if he explained about Ben, so he’d waited for an intimate time, under the cover of night.

With the position they were in, with Klaus spooning Dave, if one of their squadmates woke up and noticed, it would be pretty hard to play the whole thing off with a straight excuse. There would be a serious problem if that happened, considering the time period they were in and where they were, but it was hard to care about things like shame and disgrace when you were being shot at on a daily basis.

So Klaus and Dave had agreed to risk it, on the condition that they made sure that the rest of the squad had already fallen asleep and kept their voices low while talking. 

“My brother died,” Klaus forced himself to whisper after there had been a lull in their conversation. “When we were seventeen.”

With Dave’s back to him, it was hard for Klaus to tell what he thought of the confession, but Dave remained silent, emboldening Klaus to continue.

“It was all my fault,” Klaus gasped. Dave’s heartbeat was steady against his chest, and he took a shaky breath. “I know you’ll try to argue that it wasn’t, but—please, just don’t say anything right now. I was the last person he talked to before it happened. I could have done something, anything, I should have taken his concerns seriously, but you know what I’m like!” 

Klaus became aware that his voice had started to raise, so he paused to get himself under control. “Ben passed away, but then he came back as a ghost and decided to stick around, and it almost makes things worse, you know? I’m his only tie to the living, me, the worthless, stupid junkie, and I can’t even convince our siblings that he’s really there! So I’m done with wild hair, I can be more serious than that. It doesn’t really change anything, but it’s all I can do, and I have to do something.”

When Dave didn’t respond, Klaus tensed, mind whirling. Was Dave judging him? Was he about to agree that Klaus was a murderer, and finally break up with him? Had Dave finally been convinced that Klaus was a failure?

“Dave?” Klaus stuttered, and Dave stirred. “Do you hate me, Dave?”

There was a beat of silence, before Dave turned over to face Klaus. “I could never hate you, love,” he whispered, and relief overwhelmed Klaus. 

Dave’s eyes searched over Klaus’ face in the dark, and his loving gaze turned concerned. “What’s wrong? Is there a reason why you asked?” Klaus frowned in shock and worried confusion, prompting Dave to continue. “Your question woke me up, so I didn’t hear anything before that, but I’m happy to listen now if you want to tell me anything.”

Disappointment welled up behind Klaus’ eyes, and he shook his head. “It was nothing. But thank you, Dave.”

He didn’t bring it up again.

... 

A week later, as though it were malevolent karma for Klaus’ unwillingness to talk about Ben’s death, Dave was murdered on the front lines, and Klaus was too worthless and incompetent to save him. Klaus sobbed and screamed and bloodied his hands, but no medic came and there was nothing he could do, so in a span of less than five minutes, Klaus lost the only person he had ever truly loved more than himself.

Returning to the present, in his haze of grief, Klaus latched onto a new promise to Dave and to himself: sobriety.

And then, with sobriety, he discovered that Ben could touch him now; he could make Ben corporal. It made Klaus vaguely recall a ghost with a gunshot wound through the head and he didn’t understand why the thought made him shudder, but he thrust the revulsion from his mind, because here was finally a way for Klaus to repay his debt, here was a way to help Ben live again.

Klaus wished he could do the same for Dave, but he couldn’t find Dave’s ghost, so as he and his siblings faced the end of the world, all he could clutch were Dave’s dog tags.

When Klaus died, maybe god would finally let him see Dave again. Or maybe Klaus would end up in hell, if such a place existed, and suffer for eternity without anyone he loved. Either way, facing such a violent, fiery death at the end of his miserable life was fitting.

Tamed hair for Ben, sobriety for Dave, and an apocalypse for Klaus.

But then he and his siblings prepared to go back in time, and for once, he might finally have the potential to protect and treasure the people he loved, to save them over himself. 

Klaus’ last thought before he disappeared in a haze of blue was: I’m going to make it up to them.

After all, the past is full of possibilities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 coming after s2 is released!


End file.
